


Moonlight

by Cake_isnt_pie_sam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Stanford Era, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, drunk!Sam, needy!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cake_isnt_pie_sam/pseuds/Cake_isnt_pie_sam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets drunk during his first year at Stanford. He decides to call Dean...at four in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> (I do not own Supernatural or the boys. Comments greatly encouraged and appreciated!)

After about four beers and three sips (maybe sips is an understatement) of whiskey, Sam was drunk. Not just tipsy or dizzy; Sam was hammered. The wonderful part of alcohol (especially downing copious amounts in a short time) is that you feel _really_ good for a little while and then BAM, out of nowhere—you’re sloshed. Out of the game. Down for the count.  
  
Sam, being only a first year at Stanford, was unaware of this fact. Once back in his dorm room, he laid on his bed, halfway hanging off of it, head touching the floor. He suddenly wished Dean was there, leaning against the wall. Sam knew Dean would be laughing at Sam’s attempt to act sober, but he wouldn’t care; Dean would actually _be_ there.

He remembered the last time he drank with Dean. They were in the impala with a bottle of whiskey, way out in the middle of a field in Missouri. He was seventeen and Dean told him not to ‘be such a god damned pansy’. So just to prove how much of a man he was, Sam had drank about half of the bottle. He ended up kissing Dean and, well, they both blamed it on the alcohol. It was never mentioned again. Not long later, Sam left to Stanford.  
  
Sam smiled to himself, staring at his upside-down wall. He missed Dean. He awkwardly pulled out his phone. He dialed the familiar number, nearly dropping the phone on his face.  
  
Ring.  
  
Ring.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Dean. Hi,” Sam decided to talk in short sentences so Dean wouldn’t notice.  
  
The line was quiet for a second. A groggy voice finally answers. “Sam?”  
  
“Hi Dean,” Sam said, not able to keep from smiling like an idiot.  
  
“Yeah uh, you already said that, Sammy. Hi,” Dean laughed. “Are you aware that it’s nearly four in the morning?”  
  
“Nope.” Yes. Well kind of, anyway.  
  
“Yeah well normal people are in a deep level of sleep right about now.”  
  
“Deannnn…” Sam whined.  
  
“Ohhh, okay,” Dean said, understanding the situation. “Have a good night?”  
  
“Yep. You should be here, Dean.”  
  
“Yeah? Why’s that?”  
  
“Cause it would uh, it would be nice. I liked drinking with you best.”  
  
Sam could practically hear Dean smirking to himself. “Yeah? Why?”  
  
“Cause… you’re fun,” Sam said quietly.  
  
“Yeah?” Dean sounded much more awake, so Sam sat up on his bed, the blood rushing to his head.  
  
“Yes. Whoa, head rush,” Sam spoke aloud, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He couldn’t help but notice Dean’s voice getting more gravelly and quiet. He almost brought up the time they drank in the impala, but he didn’t want Dean to hang up. His mouth just kept moving, though. “Yes. You’re fun…and you’re fun to drink with. No one here like that, Dean.”  
  
The line went quiet for a second and Sam almost thought Dean might’ve hung up. His heart began pounding recklessly in his chest. _No, no, no._  
  
Instead, Dean chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, little brother? Did you like that?”  
  
Sam laid on his stomach, getting comfortable. “Yeah…”  
  
“What did you like, Sammy?”  
  
“I liked how, uh… how you let me lean my head on you because I was getting dizzy,” Sam swallowed, remembering much, _much_ more.  
  
“Mhmm, and what else?” Dean asked, clearly feigning innocence. The sound of Dean’s voice began to make Sam a little _more_ than comfortable and Sam shifted his body against the mattress. He quickly realized that he liked the feeling of it.  
  
“And…and then how we started wrestling in the backseat. It was so cramped back there. You pinned me down across the seat.” Sam could almost swear he heard a rustling on Dean’s end of the line—much like fabric.  
  
“Hm, really. And then what happened?” Dean’s voice sounded strained, but Sam decided not to mention it. Dean acted like Sam was telling him a story, which made Sam smile to himself. He vaguely remembered Dean’s voice dropping to that level in the impala…  
  
Sam bit back a groan deep in his throat. “And…well, um. You told me I looked so good under the moonlight…And it kind of just happened.” The kiss. He couldn’t seem to forget it.  
  
“Uh uh uh, Sammy. You’re missing one of the key plot points,” Dean’s voice growled in a tone Sam remembered all too well. It was the voice he heard in his dreams. “I pinned you down and you got hard on me. Remember? You turned…the best shade of pink I’ve ever seen, Sammy.” And Dean’s breath came through the phone loudly as he exhaled. “I bet you’re that same color right now.”  
  
Sam’s breath hitched in his throat. He exhaled shakily into a laugh. “Well I’m definitely that hard right now,” he murmured against the mouthpiece of his phone.


End file.
